The rustle of wind through the pines forests. The ground slippery with the needles. The chirping of birds. And the majestic himalayas set on fire by the blazing sun. I shall revisit this dream as often as possible.

Each time I touch this dream to morph it into reality, I become a bit more alive. A bit more aware.

Each pulse tells me of the excitement coursing through my body. Cause everytime I am the in the laps of nature, I feel as if I belong there. And everything else should be virtual instead.

The coming five days will be pleasure. I shall experience things I love most. Nature and Photography.

Though I do not upload too many pictures here, I shall photoblog the trip for once, here too.

ROMANTICISM

“the path of mystery leads inwards”-Novalis

(A part of my english project written two years back. And though the initial chapters are missing, this one talks about Romanticism, with which I quite indentify. The project dealt with my interpretation with philosophy and psychology and with self analysis. I have included some pictures that I have taken overtime to represent how I see nature.)

I have always been interested in psychology and philosophy. As I have been a nature lover. I have an unspoken intimacy with the wild nature. As I have with beauty. Also I am prey to imagination and ideas which keep flitting about in my head. I write especially poetry. And I love art- music, painting, literature, culture etc.; anything creative and aesthetic is an art form for me. As is cooking, like making new dishes. I myself indulge in all of these whenever I am prone to my creative outbursts – when I have to create something new… a poem, or a drawing, any dish, whatever. A restless energy flows through me which when I create, flows out of me into the creation.

And then there exists the way I perceive the world … as energy infinite. I have always tried to use logic to answer my questions. Some of them have been philosophical and psychological. I also realize that psychology and philosophy do merge at one point. And so I started reading on the subject and I did gain a lot of interesting ideas to mull upon. Philosophy whenever tries to propound its ideas, it give pure logic behind and it’s scientific. You can apply them in your lives and feel that they are true and not some highly conceptual theory. It also helps people to get a better understanding of them and of the human behavior. And it was reading up on the subject that made me realize that I was a romantic. My self-synthesized ideas and beliefs have always been the core ideas of romanticism. And I am a bit awed how ideas independently reproduce themselves at different points of time.

Romantics are those who identify themselves with the world. For them, even the non living or the nature has an “ego”. The natural and the spiritual merge into one and a world spirit flows through all. The non living is also said to possess a slumbering intelligence according to this train of thought. And I believe so too. It’s pretty evident for anyone who has read the first few chapters that I believe that everything has energy at the core and energy shields around. They also hold the infinity and one can know about the whole universe by penetrating into its energy shield and working up inside. I have extensively also tried to explain how by trying to reach the soul one can gain the eternal truth, thereby explaining “the path of mystery leads inwards”. Novalis was a noted romantic philosopher and as was Schelling who propounded the “slumbering intelligence”. I believe so from ages and its fascinating how they repeat in an isolated mind. For me energy from the infinite to the infinitetesimal, all carry the same recipe of truth. Like for example, the solar system to the atom, planets or electrons both are revolving following the almost same principles of physics around the nucleus or the sun. Even science for me is just the energy imprints of creation. The hidden clues to the eternal truth manifest themselves in the rules of designing the world, science. The forests, trees, a tiny flower, a puppy with brown eyes and a passive ocean all have a superego. They have such impressive fields and the world spirit flows through them such that they affect and impress us. They make us realize that they too are there and in the case of nonliving, seemingly passive and but the underlying activity is for us to feel. And we do feel our mother earth breathing through winds, tempests, clouds and thunderstorms. And we do have the oceans with the sprays and whirlpools. Even the serenity by the sea side is telling us of her calm and the millions of lives she nurtures within. The mighty sun setting is not for just visual delight and has a deeper meaning. It may be a different reality for all but everybody interprets the colours of nature in their own hues and shades. They connect with the world spirit at different points of their conscious and of time. And this world spirit for me identifies with the cosmic energy which encompasses the big and small and is the eternal energy only in a slightly different form. There is also a slightly different form of spirit called the national spirit. The national spirit identifies with the locality. It is the soul of the language, the culture, the cuisine, the dances, the folklore, ad of the people. It flows through the mysticism, the traditions and the spirit of cultural gatherings. It also lives in the stories recounted by the elders of the group and the cultural and natural history of an area. It’s a spirit that binds people and makes them one identifiable body that lives socially and united for each other.

Romantics have a very strong bond with the nature. It forms a very important part of their cognitive “I”. Study of philosophy, nature and poetry merge for many romantics, including me. I have very strong roots with the nature though I may be partial towards the mountains. I used to visit the mountains about twice a year since I was about 6. I was left free to roam the woods alone or with a friend who was a year younger to me. I had learnt falling and getting up as I trekked up and down the slopes with the nature by my side. And also finding my paths through boulders and roots which seemed insurmountable to a child like me. But I enjoyed every minute of it and I remember quite a lot of details too. They have impressed my mind such. Even now ask me where the holiday being planned should be and I would say that it should be in the lap of nature and preferably mountains. I am in love with nature. I used to dig out earthworms from my flower pot and used to study them, taking notes when I was about 9. I nurtured caterpillars, stray dogs, grew a whole lot of plants (I really enjoy gardening) and what not. I didn’t let any chance of getting close to nature pass. It gave me highs and I felt this sense of discovery that urged me on, on such expeditions.

I also write poetry, which one of my major hobbies. Actually it would be wrong to call it a hobby. Poetry is a way I express a lot of feelings not apparent to the world. It’s one of my major creative outlets. Lots of unrecognized ideas get their form through the lines I may pen down as if in a trance. It’s almost as if my soul has suddenly transferred some energy into my subconscious which has sought a way of release through my creativity. And I do emote through my poetry. I realize a lot of things as I have fun when I write. I always learn but. A lot of ideas take form and thought process start that I didn’t know I had somewhere inside my subconscious. I have expressed my love for life and nature as I have expressed my despair and sorrow through a few lines and it does lighten my heart and enlighten my brain.

But talking of creativity brings me to another aspect of romanticism. Romanticism means “imagination”, “feeling”, and “experience”. It means interpreting the world with your reality and truth. It means artistic genius and it means creation and love. Being a romantic is like being a prey to mystery. There is always confusion and a double nature approach to things. By this I mean that a single thing can be interpreted in millions of ways. And it gives us freedom. You can see the world as your reflection as the whole world also constitutes you and lies inside you. Imagination is a tool which makes you what you are. It helps you realize that you are one with the world as the world is one with you. Feeling gives you the access to the reality and helps you read it in your own language. It helps you understand the world spirit. And experience is what you get after imagination and feeling have combined hands. I could say experience is getting a small truth from the subconscious into your conscious, a small step bringing us closer to the final truth. Imagination, feeling and experience have another meaning though, which is vital to every romantic. It’s the artist in every romantic which manifests it’s self because of these. The passion that went into creation reflects in the creation and is another reality bearing the eternal truth for the artist which got lost in the truth itself and realized it fully before creating the reality of his creation. Here the creation means a world itself with the separate reality and the artist is the super creator of this world. He is the eternal truth of this world. He just paints his reality which becomes the core energy of his creation. He therefore is getting closer to his own eternal truth as time he paints some truth, he is drawn closer into his subconscious and nearer to his soul. Here the artist is not just a painter but it could be any art form. Beethoven himself was a romantic and the passion with which he created his music is evident in the Moonlight Sonata as it’s in his other creations. The passion is unmistakable. Also one feels the spirit that flows through his music and that is Beethoven presenting to the world his own truth and spirit that absolves the audience. Wistful souls communicate and we feel moved. Such concentrated spirit of an artist’s creation doesn’t pass without making an impact on us. The artist is the god of his creation, the super creator of his truth that flows and communicates with the world spirit and manifests itself each time it’s admired.

Souls have been equally stirred by paintings and poetry. People do recognize the beauty and the story, idea and feel the energy behind every creation.

Although the romantics identified themselves with the world spirit, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have individuality. Each artist created his own reality. Each romantic read the world in his language. Their methods of approach were different but there realization lay in the same truth.

Often the romantics believed in the ideal genius. Idleness was a virtue in the romantics. They believed that the daily rut was for the common people whom they called the philistines or the enemy. They thought the daily life as too trivial a matter to engage their sensibilities with. They ran after the conceptual to derive and devise new meanings of life. Often they were rebellious, moody and alien spirits. They thought themselves to be different from the rest of the world. I have very similar beliefs. It’s true that a romantic is different because his very approach to life is different altogether. Even I prefer thinking in idleness or doing what I like. The fact that I don’t remember the details which I classify as mundane details of the daily rut is due to my disinterest towards these common matters, that I know now is characteristic of romanticism.

Romanticism also means being deeply involved in emotions. Romanticism is like chasing a golden deer like in Ramayana. You don’t know what you are up against but you feel it or intuitively try to know it. You go on discovering as you travel the path of life. At each step there is this sense of discovery as there is sense of loss. There is a sense of satisfaction but always you are restless and wistful for new challenges. Often it’s based on short term goals but hard work is put into creation of some highly desired creation though it may be a long process. The romantic is also deeply wound into emotions. His experiences, realization etc are always emoted. Logic does play a great part but then the logic is also felt first and then analyzed later on. He is always going through a live connection with his soul and his internal state is always that of a strong breeze. Old ideas are washed away and new ideas are synthesized and given root. A romantic is also very independent. He always understands things via his perspective, a different understanding for everything that may not match with anybody else’s understanding.

And a romantic is always a dreamer. He may remain lost in thought or awe over a trivial flower which is but powerfully beautiful to him. He may hear wisdom in the melody of the songbird. And this because he often gets the glimpses of the infinite in the finite or the macrocosm in the microcosm. At that point of time he suddenly feels the “sampurna shristi” in the “beej tatva”. For a romantic dreams and reality often fuse. He doesn’t draw the line between the dream and the real because the dream itself produces the hidden aspect of reality. He believes in the super conscious and is constantly trying to understand it consciously and unconsciously.

A romantic is a naked soul. He is a person who has cast off the cover of sophistication, the attributes of civilization which tame humans and make them distant to their basic primitive instinct. A romantic does away with all his pretence and amplifies his basic nature. He creates from the conceptual and after he has cast off sophistication, he is closer to his core energy. He identifies himself with the rugged nature nut also the soft maternity of the natural world. I write as I feel. And often my writing is abrupt. Often with too may ideas going through my head I am at a loss of words to express the whole volume which is there in my head and pounding my creative urges for a way of release. Always what I wish to create with my camera, words, paints, or ideas isn’t perfect. Often what is there in my ideas completely reflects in my work. And though that does bring dissatisfaction, on trying again and again its teaching my brain to focus and bringing me closer to the artistic reality of a particular aspect of my work. It also represents my unsophisticated cover which is not perfect. And my love for philosophy shows my yearning for the mystic. But being born in India has really helped as here philosophy has been so highly developed since ages unknown. Indians have always charged the unknown and tried to rationalize the unknown and the truths hidden in the dark. I find the Indian thinking so ripe that I have often used Sanskrit terms in various articles of this collection. A few words are strong enough to have the whole “saar” of the issue in them. India has always been the land of intellectuals but it stagnated as knowledge wasn’t exchanged with the world. In India we have always studied science and philosophy together. They were extensions of each other. We have always discovered high mathematical truths for centuries that the western world recently discovered. Our mathematicians were philosophers also, who wrote in verse form the science of mathematics, also respected as the language of science with its cool logic. Because of these facts I believe, that with the oriental mysticism and the philosophy which believes that the macrocosm is the microcosm and the ideals of beej tatva etc. our philosophy definitely has a romantic shade.

And this brings me to the close of my self analysis which has I hope helped me reach a bit closer to my core energy. And meditation I hope would take me forward as would focus on any goal of mine. Due to the Indian flavour of romantic ideals I have indeed identified with my National Spirit as I have with the Universal Romantic Spirit. They are basically not very different but are flavours of a very same essence.

It will always be a quest for me, life. I know I am very young and lot of people might think I have not enough experience to state whatever I do state right now. But I do realize it from long back. And it’s somehow inherent in my spirit. To rationalize and analyze. I was born with the spirit of a romantic. I may not be the most satisfied person of earth as when I gain something a new quest begins. After all chasing a golden deer is not easy. Its elusive and doesn’t exist except for in my imagination. But I am a romantic and my dream and reality are but one. My golden deer is my eternal truth luring me with a bait of a smaller truth that draws me closer to itself using with bigger and bigger challenges. And that is the quest of a romantic reaching eternal truth. Through forms variant and art will I reach it finally but I will.

By Coleridge …

“ What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what, if in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”

I think. Therefore, I am.

Thought

सपना नहीं, होसला टूटता है|  

Sapna nahi, hosla tootta hai.

Pardon the speling, best I could do with translator.

I will not falter, I will not shatter.

The Winner Stands Alone

This book came as a surprise for me rather. It stands out from the rest of the books he has written. Paulo Coelho, one of my very favourite authors! His books usually had a strong message, and the writing style was surreal. This instead was so deep rooted to reality and dealt with our dark angels. An Un-put-Downable one though.

This book leaves me confused and angry. Igor, the protagonist (I don’t know if he was good or bad) went to Canne’s film festival to win his wife back. She had left him two years back and was with another. He was man with principles and morals. He considered himself extremely capable of taking risks and tough decisions. Strangely, he also believed that god had vested in him the power and the responsibility to do any thing to get what he wants.

He wanted to send a message to Ewa, his wife. For that, he started killing innocent people. Each was a sacrifice in her name to make her realize how much he loved her. How serial killer psychology has been portrayed in this book, I found rather interesting. But, Ewa doesn’t want to come back.

Half way through, his mission changes. I don’t follow totally after this. The book ends with him killing her and her husband. What was the purpose of this mission of his? May be by killing so many, he understood himself better. But was the sacrifice worth it? I cannot digest that this man, who thinks he has the authority to take lives for what he believes is the greater good, can be sane or a good person.

May be, he wasn’t intended to be good, bad or ugly. May be he is just a character and thus, has a right to exist without conforming to any stereo-typed ideal. I don’t think I have an issue with the fact that the usual "good over evil" didn’t take place.

But, one person’s instability destroyed so many lives. Among the others who get killed are hard-working people with dreams and aspirations. They have worked night and day and taken enormous risks to reach where they were. May be they were on the brink of achieving everything they wanted to but did not. They lives ended without fulfillment. And there were many whose future depended in the hands of the people who just departed. And all the victims were related in some way or the other.

Is it really justifiable, what Igor propagates in that book?

Only one character apart from Igor realizes her destiny. But another innocent girl was left thinking that she has finally achieved it all, at the last page of the book. I can’t help thinking as if she was real, and in for a rude shock when her whole universe shall crash around her the next day.

The book also showed the trials and tribulations in the glamour world but that we have gotten to know through other books also. The superegos of the superclass have been well characterized too. Still, the way he weaves the plot interspersed with his characters, transports you inside the book, breathing with them.

An interesting thing I noted was that victims who died where equal in the sex ratio. I am sure it means something. The book was filled with booby traps of this world that entail to swallow us. On a philosophical plane, may be it did show us what life could be. Whatever I read in that book can be applied to many situations, many characters could all teach us about some of those traps on a surreal plane. As is a constant with Paulo Coelho’s books, it has many points through which we can enter the book and run away with our understanding and imagination. I like that. Each one gets his own picture, message.

But, how does the winner not stand alone? If Igor is the intended winner… are we getting a new understanding of the word alone? Is not the dark angel just a figment of Igor’s imagination so that he may remain guilt free? These doubts have not been cleared in the book. I don’t hate the book for it. I rather love the fact that these loose ends have remained.

I shall be thinking further on these lines and may be my understanding shall improve. The book has left me slightly angry. But my brain is active trying to understand something new. This hasn’t happened in a long time and I am more than pleased for the mental stimuli.

Thought

I have morals,but the only person I judge is myself.







Impression, sunrise
CLAUDE MONET

My Day Today

I had a very nice today after ages. I met 3 of my very great friends. Though one did leave early, but the others stayed for quite late. And I had a very relaxing day which left me feeling quite content.

After all this entrances pressure in my pseudo drop year, I really had lost out on so many friends of mine. And even if we did meet, the tension always hung about in the air. So today, when most of my major entrances are back in history, I finally did let my hair down. Though, we really didn’t do too many things, but just hung about and talked. The experience was more emotionally rewarding than I had expected and had almost forgotten how that felt.

It was so wholesome. The jumping about here and there, the hugging, the flirting, the slight comedy… touchy feely acts, the good food… it felt so nice!!! So mostly we hung about in select and mgf and dlf… looked at books, khana khaya at KFC, and then yogurt at coco berry…

Then we came back to my colony… had many more things to eat ot lear. We talked like carefree kids and had so much fu. Moreover, my friends are so adorable. I feel so much love for them. They made my day very perfect. One of them, though he stays far away near Noida, stayed till 9. And the second one … 40 minutes more, but she lives nearby.

So with all cute drama, catching up on old times, loads of food, scandalous talks, I completed a perfect day spent with great friends. Well, we spent a lot of time in the park under my house. There was a small dust storm going on and the breeze was so refreshing. Looking back, each piece seems to fit in my puzzle of the glorious day spent.

And I don’t know to whom, but I am very thankful for this much awaited peace of mind.

Back

over with the major entrances...
its time to celebrate perhaps but i still have 1 important one left.
still i can devote some time to this blog of mine which has been inactive for some tym again..

interesting i have started a new blog under a psuedo identity. and some of my friends i guess would have seen that by now.

it wont have these many verses. i dont say i am done with them yet either.
either way its fun to blog. i love blogging. i just need to be a bit more experimental with the technology to give it that must visual appela to.

some of the blogs i have been visitig are so awesum.so i have a long way to go.

so crux is , im back again. YAY!

Impending Dawn

The night drags on….
I am still waiting for the shimmering lights
Promised to me by the oncoming dawn
The genies of night
Tell me to leave
It’s a pointless waiting they say.

Should optimism bow down to the night
Should I sell my belief to the highest bidder,
Or the stronger contender.
I am perched on the ledge of despair
The genies have started dancing,
Around black fires that give no light, no warmth
Strangely I’m comforted…
The lights would be easier to spot now.

I sit and wait
In the cold cold night
Dew drops gather around me
And the chill from the devils fire permeates my bones
They are hoarding
The creatures of the night
They surround me with their distance
Their formalities
Their lullabies, their sugared words
Hypocrisies but can never provide warmth.
I am lured to join them, they provide me wine
I could be drink away from all what they promise.

It takes me my life, my soul and all my memories to refuse
To sit tight on my rocky ledge
To sweat despite the cold
Waiting for the promise
Waiting for life, loving this cold….almost.

The devils are not evil,
They just want to win…
They have had failures before…
Broken they cant hope to see light again…fearing it might not come
And what if they hoped again… but in vain.
They have lost so much,
That they befriend the night
Devoid of courage to heal their wounded hearts
And petrified souls.

Now, they strive to help me
They don’t believe that dawn is for real
They don’t want me to be hurt…
And don’t want me to win either
Jealous of my faith, they must dissuade me
From my quest,
What if I win, and they lose…
What if all is lost….

I see a beautiful soul, not yet black among them
She dances so beautifully away from the fire
It warms my heart just to see her
A swan with a broken wing…
I look at her, wondering if she was the light promised
How could it be
As she carries the shadow of night with her…
As do the others of the devils.

I must talk to her…
I reach out to touch her cold skin,
She recoils from my warm touch,
Its unusual, and long forgotten.
I see her trying to reject it,
As they have forsaken the warmth forever
Lest it be taken away…
She tries to run…
But I cant let her get away.
I have been promised love.

I pursue her, in the night.
The places she goes are cold,
The rush of winds chills my heart
And we both are panting…
The chase stops when she does… unable to continue.
I hold her tight and kiss her.
Kissing her cold away, kissing her into warmth.
Trying to draw her out of her body in mine…
Loving her, stroking her hair, professing my love
Waiting for her to believe me
Warming her
Waiting for her to respond.

Her chill and the night are seeping into me
I am getting colder and colder
Is death tugging at me…
Cold thoughts surround me
I haven’t let her go still
But is she a ploy,
A nymph to get me forsake the warmth I endear
Is she the devil herself sucking my warmth that I’m trying to sate?
I don’t have too much strength left, I need the dawn
Even if she is the light promised,
The night and the run have taken their toll…
The darkness seems to wait for me to pass into
It promises me warmth, and love and her, if she is the devil…

I have used up every ounce of my warmth
She is warmer, but I’m too cold
Maybe beyond repair…

My eyes are swimming with dew drops or tears, I’m not sure.
The cold makes them freeze on my eyelids…
The weight is too much…
I have to close my eyes…
The darkness can swallow me
I did all I can
Fought as much as I could.


And as my eyes almost close,
She kisses me back,
She responds to my touch, my cold body
Filling me with her ethereal light,
Hope, love and promise… and her.
She heals me and feels me…
Like a baby exploring the world
Slowly and slowly… we bond…
The night is still on, and I’m still cold.
But I shall live, with my new hope and my delicate swan…

She gives me strength, I give her hope.
Together we reach the devils,
With my cold body they notice me not
And we mingle and dance around the black fire…
The dawn will come… of that I’m sure.

We talk to the devils,
Tell them of our love…
We tell them of our hope….
And that cold need not keep the warmth out
She makes them remember
She communicates in a way I never could…
She tells them of our kiss
Of my tears and hers….
We share the visions of a new dawn…
She sees it through my eyes, and they through hers…

Yes, they could finally see it…
And they believed it…

I hold her close, she much warmer than me
When the dawn did come for us…
I was exuberated, and she petrified by the brilliance
Which gave way to acceptance, and finally happiness.
The devils also rose one by one…
With new found courage to face the sun.
And new strength and love was found…
In each pair of eyes around.

My bird had her wings healed; she flew away into the twilight…
And left me with hope and a heart full of love
And memories strong enough to carry on for the rest of my life.

MARIA

Maria has really pretty eyes
Eyes which had laughed once,
Loved and healed me…
Now they contain madness…
Proud as they are, not yet anguish
Hurt, nor pain.
Yet mine do shine with loneliness.
She let her silver voice soothe me
Fill me as she allayed my fears;
Sing me into sweet sleep, with soft spells
Of her magic, love and care.
Now she sings of war ballads and
Death chants…not to me anymore.
I haven’t slept since.
She caresses her whispers
Right into my heart
Stirs my soul with her flirtatious presence,
Her witchcraft of possession, that being mine
Behold me endlessly on her soft bosom.
Crushed pine needles was her fragrance
And had I not inhaled deeply then
I would lay destroyed
To see her now
Ripped from my senses forever
She’s gone and I am left behind…
I haven’t breathed since
I can’t inhale her anymore.
Madness! How did I see madness
In her nonexistent empty eyes?
Death ballads yet don’t flow
From dead lips
Do I admit its me alone…
My identity was as much hers
And her eyes mine.
The world is hostile, alien in her absence
Tears are horrified to escape alone
No magic but confusion
May have caused death ballads
To beg release from my lips
It was her tongue though
As mine as much hers…still.
On the brink of insanity
She still came to me
Not by magic, in memory
Kisses me with peace
As I was told
“Your Maria lives in your soul
Not in her body…”
I laughed with tears falling finally
Unbidden and unafraid.
What she had often said and will forever
Till I need her, see her, remember her
Breathe her and love her…
Maria had made her magic prevail
And had coaxed me into sanity.

Whispers strong now rule my heart
Warm gusts of memories, peace
And Maria still possessive about me
I revel in her magic.
And she?
She lets me live.

I could say it is time to write
Time to pen down thoughts
If not virtue, not scandals
But myriad useless thoughts
That since had no moral, ethical,
Monetary value, have not been acknowledged yet.
………………………………………………………..

Days n Dreams

There is always a limit to stupidity element. People should learn from their mistakes…but I’m an idiot beyond limits.

I use all my free time to get distracted and day dream ignoring the work at hand….

And I couldn’t give my entries to this real prestigious photography competition today because it got closed the moment I started uploading my pictures.

And all this because I was extremely distracted through few days, dealing with teenage issues, and fucking up a lot of my time….

I have to get a grip…

Ek auss ki boond…

Maati par padi hi ek auss ki boond
Raat ko chaand ki sunheri nazar mein
Andhakar ka saaya apne mein samaye
Ek pal mein khudr aur ussimein viraat
Poore aakhash ka pratibimb jhalakta hua
Uss shote se dayare mein
Mann ko ek alag sa sukoonmilta hai
Shudrata mein visaalta dek
Andhakar mein apna astitva na khota dekh
Chand ke roshniko apna banata dekh
Ek auss ki boond
Suraj ki naa garmahat na kirne
Kabhi chuyegi isse
Kale andhakar ke dhhaal mein panapti
Ek auss ki boond
Jisne apna rasta hai khud chuna
Aur apni sheetalta se ek swarachit mugdhata mein
Khud ko simoye duniya se pare
Maati ke aanchal mein
Shaant nidra praapt ki un kirno ke agaman se pehle.

(Musings in Hindi.... Not great, but i like it...)

I have barriers
And empty castles with broken windows
And no doors
I haven’t ventured outside for long.

I had a lot to say
Somehow the time didn’t seem enough
To curb away my inhibitions
And now the time seems too less…

The door is rushing towards me
An exit at this stage seems undesirable…

A blank wall is pretty easy to paint
But a wall with a wrongly placed caption
A half formed idea
Is much harder to approach….
All is not erasable even if you wish it so…

Adieu

I have had a lot of time to say things I might have wanted to but never still got time enough. Time enough to break barriers that I have constructed like fair castles around me.
Time enough so I got lost in them and thought them to be my world. I wanted to build a lot of things but I just built half-filled dreams…fair castles with broken windows and no doors.

I think now it is time to leave all this behind but I don’t have the words to say goodbye... Can I say goodbye to you… even if I didn’t know you.

Its more than two years... I have returned.

A New Look or A Fresh Start

I started blogging… as a platform to share my poems, and views on many issues, close to my core, or which simply interest me. But since I have never been able to emote in spoken words… drowned emotion took the form of my contorted poems. These poems are conversations with my soul have helped me grieve; they are like my friends…

So, due to some personal issues in the last two years I took to writing a lot more than before, just to emote when I couldn’t beg for any other way of release. And the blank pages which were my reflection, understood me like no other…

Pressures of school, teenage and an incredible lack of patience and concentration never gave any other literary device the exposure… I was always pressed for time….somehow.

But I could say, I have matured, my thoughts have… and now I feel free to express without hiding in the riddles. As in a poem, I was a character within a poem, which expressed one specific emotion I imagine or feel.

Much of the drama is made up, but there is my soul hidden behind veils of layered riddles, lines and words. Its time to come out of the closet…and to experiment with reality…

Though it does not mean that I shall not write the poems… they are a part of me like no other… whispers closest to perhaps the real me. Which I’m forever trying to discover… but remain baffled and confused.

I have been really inactive on m blog for long… I shall try to keep it regular from now on but I cant promise anything to myself even…

So here goes… some things from the inactive period…in verse and without.

THE SAVIOUR

I was shrouded in the darkness
Of the glitter that I thought was light,
Down in the dungeons of the dark dusty world
I knew not the right.

Each day I fell deeper
Each moment the creepy crawlies of the dark world,
Held me stronger still in their grip
Deeper down was I hurled.

Soon, the glitter dimmed
Even the misconception of light was lost,
All was lost I thought
Atleast, hope at any cost.

And then the light shone
In the darkest corner of my heart,
It warmed me still as somebody held my hand
And pierced the darkness like a dart.

He caressed my head
And said he had come to deliver me,
He put me back on the right track
And now the right I could see.

I had resurfaced
As pure as an angel,
He had cleansed me but
I could not see beyond his bright veil

I asked him to reveal himself to me
He said I knew him in my heart of hearts,
And though he had gone
Light came to me even without his guard.

Asking my heart I knew
He was not my guardian angel,
And though all angels must not have wings
I was saved by someone more special.

OF SKIES AND LOVE…………………

They are going away, far away
To the places I long for…
But it holds me back.
The tears I shed go unnoticed
As I long for the bright blue skies.

The green vales I had seen
Were a part of my life.
My heart is divided thus….
I don’t know why
Love never found its way
To the doorsteps of my heart.
I felt my love in the bright blue skies
I left my love in the bright blue skies.

The concrete jungle
The gray dust is not what I long for.
I was made for
The cotton balls of my memories,
The green valleys and
The sound of music of the chirping birds…..
Their echoes deep down in my heart
Told me of the bright blue skies
That I had left behind.

Lost in the mist
Beyond sight are buried dreams
Of the fair mountains
A life’s love
And the blue sky dotted with birds
And they will remain buried……..
Perhaps always.
My fears and tears
Rise up in smoke
Unnoticed by the mob.
As I am lost in my dreams
Of the bright blue skies.

THE LAST LOOK

It had rained
The earth reeked with the soddy smell
Which reminded me of my mother
She exists here
But I must leave her back…
The blue sky gazed at me,
With vows of deep purity
The green grass called me back.
But I went on,
On the untrodden steps of destiny,
As I left back the kings of stone.
With white shimmering crowns
……….That money can never buy and
Now ruby red to call me back.
But I went on, even if with a wet face
But my destiny was set
As the concrete was my world
The roads of dust, the roads of hate…………
Of poverty and misery
Of the misty future
My destiny told tales
And in the unknown I set my sail.
My ears were ringing with a known echo
A chirping, a humming, a tune
Seemed to hover in the air.
It was a blinding one
It was calling me back…
But I floated on the remorseful sound
Lap lap lap … was it remorseful?
My heart affirmed
Yet I float on he unchartered waters of destiny.
Now the sun turns red
And I remember her
Mother… so loving, so caring
Calling me back.
So I vowed I will return
Even if the tides of destiny were high.
And to glance at my mother I looked back
And though the vow I kept
Then I took……..
My last mortal look.